A Brother's Comfort
by Jimaine
Summary: Rogue absorbs Ms Marvel while the Professor's away and no one can help her until he arrives. Can Kurt offer her a brother's comfort?


She had been sitting in the corner for the last two hours, and there wasn't anything anyone could do for her.

Of all the weekends the Professor could have picked to be away from the Institute, this was probably the worst. He was rushing home, spurred on by an urgent call from Storm, but he wouldn't be here for at least another day. And Rogue had already lived through one hell.

She'd done it. Held on too long, without realizing what she was doing, and it was a day later and she still had Ms Marvel locked inside her. Nothing anyone had tried had worked -- Jean wouldn't go near her, and Logan, Hank and Ororo had run out of ideas. She couldn't even sleep -- she had other people's nightmares.

Which left the other X-Men and the New Mutants scurrying around, trying to get an idea of how to help her, or just trying to stay out of everyone elses way. Kurt was down in the sub-basement unanimously called the 'junk drawer'. Anything no one could find a place for that had no immediate use went down here, and sometimes when he just wanted to be alone Kurt would pick through the stuff down here and find the most amazing things. Who could possibly have a use for a --

-- leather jacket?

The brown leather jacket was old, graying, and worn enough to have obviously been well-loved. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched, next to his own fur.

Inspiriation!

_BAMF!_

Kurt landed outside the room Rogue shared with Kitty. Kitty hadn't stepped foot in it since the incident. He knocked a few times on the door, and receiving no answer, slowly pushed it open a crack. "Rogue?"

She was huddled in a corner, in the same position she'd been in since she hurled herself out of the nightmares of a dozen different people. She was wearing her new uniform, which she'd made up using things she'd found in Carol Danvers -- Ms Marvel's -- memories. It covered her neck to feet, mostly green with a wide yellow stripe down the middle. Gloves and shoes were included, so she'd never be able to take her gloves off during battle, or any other time -- not while she was wearing this. Her white and auburn hair fell over her face, and her eyes were glazed slightly.

Leaving the door open a bit, in case Rogue felt the need to escape, Kurt walk in. "Rogue? I -- I have something for you. I mean, it's not exactly the height of fashion, but . . . I noticed you didn't come here with much more than the clothes on your back. And you don't really have anything -- comfy. I found this in the Junk Drawer, and just thought you might like it."

Rogue didn't react for a long moment, and then her hand snaked out from where it was clutched around her legs and grabbed the jacket. She rubbed the incredibly soft leather between her fingers for a moment before throwing it on over her uniform. Then she was still.

Kurt sighed, and started to get up.

"Wait," came a soft voice from behind him, one he hardly recognized. "Wait!"

"Rogue?" Kurt turned around, and found emerald eyes looking horror-stricken up at him. He knelt down again, and found himself nearly bowled over when she lunged at him. "Rogue! Get off!" he demanded laughingly. When he sorted them out -- Rogue had no mind to -- Kurt ended up practically wrapped around Rogue, while she clung to one of his arms. He was about to open his mouth to say something when Rogue pre-empted him.

"Who am I?" she asked shakily. "I remember -- I remember you. You're the only thing I remember that's not fuzzy -- which is really kind of ironic."

_Well, there's her strange sense of humor_.

"I remember this place called the Institute, with a lot of people who could do weird things. I remember a little shack and a bunch of guys who had powers like -- like I do. And I remember growing up a normal girl and living a normal life, and flying, anf taking out the bad guys without anyone evr noticing --" a lock of auburn hair fell in front of Rogues eyes, and it seemed to run her up against a brick wall. "I remember having blond hair . . ."

And Kurt held her while she cried and tried to sort through the memories of a dozen lifetimes.


End file.
